


Uchiha, of the past and present.

by JelloMarshmallowGlade



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Izuna is so OP, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25014397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JelloMarshmallowGlade/pseuds/JelloMarshmallowGlade
Summary: Uchiha Izuna dies, on a battlefield, with his brother beside him and a gift from Senju Tobirama blooming crimson on his chest.And yet, he is born again, to the fabled city of Konohagakure, that his brother so often fantasized about. Senju and Uchiha alike line the street, and yet they do not do so with mistrustful eyes and weapons at the ready.He is an nameless abandoned orphan, but the Uchiha clan do not let go of family easily, whether it be the future or 300 years in the past.-An Uchiha Izuna reincarnation-time travel.
Relationships: Uchiha Izuna & Uchiha Itachi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	Uchiha, of the past and present.

Izuna is killed on a battlefield, with the acrid scent of blood and the cacophonous screams of Shinobi all around him. His eyes are his last asset, his last thing of worth, and so when he gives them to his brother, Izuna is satisfied.   
His brother’s blood red-Sharingan glisten, reflecting the bloody form of a young man much too pathetic to be the brother of a man this powerful and the two reds blend and fold into each other, marbling, until the resulting colour is something deeper, warmer, coruscating in the suddenly dim light of the noon sunlight.   
Izuna reaches one hand up to caress his brothers face, gently. Heart stuttering, a whisper is all that’s heard.  
“Be safe... Madara-nii-san.”  
And in the twisted diorama of a battlefield that is all he’s ever known, Uchiha Izuna inhales, exhales, and his heart stops.   
-  
And it is on a battlefield that he is born again.   
When he comes to, the first thing he feels is chakra. It’s not the chakra of his mother’s warm embrace. Instead, it is the sharp, piquant chakra of the dead and dying.  
Izuna is confused for all of a second, before the horrified realisation that he can feel again takes over. He’s somewhere. Something. Someone, again. It’s discombobulating. His thoughts are chasing their tails in his mind.   
-  
Growing up, Izuna quickly realises that this life is not the same as the last. This life proves to be far removed from his old one, a fact that he is not sure whether to be overjoyed or wistful about. His pale skin and jet-black spikes of when he was a child have returned, as have his spindly, gangly limbs. Although there is more inconsistencies. Here, children have no need to fight in wars, and instead, they are treasured and cared for and sent to a school to learn about the ways of the shinobi, only sent out when ready. A village, where the young generation was protected, where shinobi and civilian cohabite peacefully.   
But, to him, the biggest shock is the knowledge that this was Konohagakure no Sato, the fabled town with which his brother longed to create when they were children. Here, Senju and Uchiha were more likely to share a drink than launch at attack at each other on the battlefield. It was... inconceivable, to say the least.  
In addition, his mother had died that soon after he had been born. Perhaps some karmic balance of the universe - in the life that he had regained, another had been taken, he muses. His time as a baby was rushed. Not much is to be remembered in that stage of life - dizzying colours, brief flashes of familiarity, slow breaths. The persona of Uchiha Izuna is a quiet voice in the background.   
The only event he can remember is the unforgettable rush of pain-anger-terror and the caustic chakra of the most fearsome of the tailed beasts. It fills his chakra pathways, burning and itching like acid down the drain as it floods his body. He’s left feeling a peculiar feeling of rawness, abraded and somewhat made anew. The Kyuubi’s chakra is a truly a thing to behold, Izuna can testify.   
Thus, for the most part, the first three years of Izuna’s life pass without event.   
Izuna had been placed in the Konoha orphanage. He is labelled as one of the unknown orphans from the tragedy, shoved in the orphanage so they can no longer pollute the squeaky clean reputation of Konoha. He was not given a name, as far as he can tell, and although that grinds on his sensibilities, his logic wins out in the end. There is little need to be singled out, and he has one that he is loathe to relinquish so complaining is the furthest thing from his mind. Uchiha Izuna. It’s one of the last things he still has from his last life, and so he clings onto it, the dying flame of a worn candle that he cups in his hands like a precious gem.   
Life in the orphanage is monotonous, but the decidedly strange absence of fighting was a welcome change. Izuna takes what the orphanage caretakers give him, never speaking up, for Madara-nii had always said that Shinobi live in the shadows for a reason. He is of the same mind.   
There is another orphaned by the Kyuubi attack - a sunny-haired individual by the name of Uzumaki Naruto. Although, it is not exaggeration that ‘demon child’ and ‘hellion’ are used more often than not. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s an Uzumaki, though, and that’s enough for Izuna to ignore him and focus on the day-to-day.   
That’s not to say that the day-to-day at the orphanage is entertaining at all, in any sense of the word. He is sometimes very, very bored at the orphanage. Izuna is a child brought up in the throes of death and pain and battle; peacetime is both a concept dreamed about, yet hardly entertained in any real sense. The unchanging tedium of daily life here is oppressive, each day adding extra weight to the cloud that hangs over.   
It’s when the broken record of eat-sleep-repeat finally snaps in two that Izuna, three years old, sneaks from the orphanage matron - a martinet of austere smiles and harsh orders - to the forest just outside Konoha, a straight line south from the orphanage.   
It’s pure, unadulterated, freedom, each chakra-infused breath like water to a man who’d been stranded in the desert for years. He’s alive.   
Reaching the cusp of the forest, Izuna represses his chakra and takes to the trees, seeking a sequestered training ground to call his own. His skills are palpably rusting, like Madara-nii’s favourite gundam left to dust, and his fingers periodically twitch around an imaginary kunai. He’s caught himself forming the tiger seal under the covers at night, when the lights are off and the orphanage is devoid of light and sound, just to feel the nostalgic rush of fire chakra thrumming in his veins, even if no jutsu is actually commenced.   
His three year old body is surprisingly cooperative with his efforts, and the skills he possessed are slowly but surely returning. It was akin to relearning the first step after a healed leg injury. One knew the semantics, so it was only a matter of time until your body caught up.   
The warm Konoha sunlight dapples on the forest detritus, and ripples over his pale skin as he runs. The trees stink of Senju chakra, but the rush of wind and life is enough to shove it to the back of his mind.   
He is pleased to note his chakra pathways, despite his younger body, seem much the same as his previous life. Pulsating under his skin, the gentle echoes of warmth are soothing and familiar in ways he didn’t know he had missed. The Mangekyou Sharingan is a calming sensation, and when he channels chakra to his eyes, the sudden rush of details a welcome comfort to his paranoid Shinobi nature. It had only been a few years since the last large battle he’d participated in, he figures, and years of honed instincts don’t just disappear.  
Izuna’s first training session since coming to this future is, safe to say, absolute chaos. Satisfaction too, he’s pleased to note. Izuna steps into the familiar shoes, and it’s like a breath of fresh, clean air. He didn’t truly understand how much he had missed it until it was back.   
It’s not an overstatement to say the strangely shaped clearing elicits much confusion, especially when one takes in the fact that it had appeared there in less than a day. What kind of destructive power is that?  
Ash lingers in the stale air, while charred Hashirama trees delineate Izuna’s little training ground. The forest is very-much singed around the edges, and, well, it’s a start. The less Senju chakra he can feel around him, the better.  
-  
It’s just another day when he’s training in the forests, sun beating down, breeze light and airy. He’s five now, and harsh, diligent training has found himself near-but-not-quite as strong as before.   
Leaves rustle as he hears voices slip through the trees.  
It’s loud and not at all stealthy, that which he hears. Gruff, hoarse voices spew argument after argument interspersed with less-than-polite harangues and bitter vitriol. It’s certainly a surprise to hear in the usually peaceful forests. Izuna is intrigued enough to clamp down on his chakra, blend in with his surroundings and enjoy the show.   
“Shut up and listen to me, you idiots. We’re going after the Hyuuga princess, we can’t afford mistakes. Konoha, despite the mushy leaf-lovers they are, are not an enemy to be taken without careful planning.” Another voice, bitterly murmuring. “Who died and made you leader?” There a pause, followed by a suspiciously loud thwack, and some indignant mutterings.   
The voice restarts, a touch more steely than before. “Why do you think the Raikage took the trouble to plan the signing of the treaty? It’s the only way to enter Konoha and get close to the Hyuuga with our lives. We need the Byakugan - Konoha already has far too many priceless Kekkei Genkai in their grasp. We are sent to even the odds. This is- Oi, pay attention! You there! This knowledge is important.”   
“Tch.”   
And wow, their professionalism and Shinobi skills is a sad sight by itself. They are a far cry from his day and age, and Izuna takes the time to silently despair for the future of the Shinobi. Honestly, these Shinobi seem the epitome of mundane. Izuna is content to fade into the background and let Konoha deal with the enemies. After all, it’s not anything that concerns him, right?  
“Well, anyways, if this all fails we can just bag ourselves an Uchiha for our troubles. The Byakugan would be more effective in our village, but I’m sure the research and development division won’t turn their nose up at a live Sharingan specimen.”   
Retracting his previous statement, this has just become his problem. Did they think they could just casually insult his clan like that? A contingency plan, a second thought. Did they think the Uchiha so low?   
Well, he’d be more than willing to show them the error of their ways.   
Springing from his position hidden in the leaves, he deactivates his camouflage jutsu and notice-me-not genjutsu and does a flashy 360 to throw kunai at three of the 6 men, before socking another in the face. He has little more than a millisecond to enjoy their startled and absolutely bewildered expression - his childlike body is still glaringly obvious, despite his regained skill - before the three kunai he had launched before strike true and the stunned confusion shifts to rage.   
It’s satisfying, somehow.   
He’s used to fighting opponents larger than him, as speed and precision were weapons of the lithe and slim, and collectively favoured highly by the Uchiha. Both of which were far more technique-based than instinct based, using them as a child is less of a handicap than he had predicated. In fact, he’d protest that his reduced size had been an unexpected boon to both his speed and evasion.   
He kicks off the face of the tallest one and leaps to one of two Shinobi still standing. The lingering shock hangs off them like mucilaginous goo, hindering their movement and reaction speed by a few seconds. Capitalising on that, Izuna doesn’t give them the time of day to regain their form, and slams a curled fist into the Shinobi’s groin, which is conveniently the perfect height with his shorter stature.   
He flings a shuriken behind him to the Shinobi that seems dangerously close to recovering his focus, and the Shinobi that was just a bit off is now very much off centre, and a thin line of blood blooms on his cheek for his troubles.   
“Hn, you dodged.” Izuna mutters under his breath.   
This doesn’t faze him, however, as Izuna had attached a ninja wire to the shuriken. With a sharp jerk of his fingertips, the shuriken abruptly changes direction, swinging back and careening in a large arc and embedding itself in the unsuspecting Shinobi’s back. The Shinobi’s eyes widen, and chokes, a spray of blood splattering like red fireworks onto his white orphan smock.   
The last Shinobi snaps his gaze to Izuna and something in there seems to harden.   
“A mere child? You dare take on the best Kumogakure has to offer? While you might have had luck on your side for the others, I’m afraid you won’t be so lucky this time, when your opponent is I, Karui, the Ninja that can fight faster than the wind. It is pointless to resist, for you cannot hope match the pace of this battle.”   
Izuna feels a little affronted at that comment - his speed, even in the Shinobi Clans of his time, was his most renown skill. That, and his Mangekyou. Speed is an Uchiha’s bread and butter and, well, Izuna always was a cut above the rest.   
Izuna shrugged, gesturing to the fallen bodies around him. “Hn.” He grunts, dryly. “Why don’t we let our fight speak for itself, eh?”  
The Shinobi’s eyes narrow, and he jerks his chin up in what is obviously a mixture of arrogance and condescension. “Let’s.” He agrees.   
Izuna’s eye twitches in annoyance. He is a blur. Flitting in and out of sight, he is the demon in the night that steals into the light and slices invisible threads of blood from shapes of exposed skin. He takes his time with this one, playing with his prey and making hell on earth for this man with expert use of Genjutsu and Katon jutsu.   
He gets a new hairline fracture on his ribs for his arrogance, but his control of the fight is far from over.   
Finally, he takes pity on him and finishes the fight off swiftly. Slamming him against the tree, Izuna pins all his limbs to stop any retaliatory activity, and stares straight in his eyes.  
His Mangekyou Sharingan activates and with a generous dollop of chakra, the Shinobi is a blubbering, twitching mess on the forest floor. As he scans the newly-created landscape, it’s hard not to feel satisfied with the results. Izuna kicks a bit at the Shinobi’s fallen body (his childish inclinations are just not worth resisting for this man.) before ransacking all the Shinobi of their equipment, ninjutsu scrolls and whatever catches his fancy.   
He feels no remorse refilling his weapons pouches with cleaner, better-quality weapons, and he flounces between the bodies until he is sure there is nothing left for him to scavenge.   
Suddenly, Izuna hears a quiet rustle in the trees. A telltale shimmer in the air of an inexperienced ninja suppressing their Chakra. A breeze ruffles the leaves on either side, but those in the middle stay unmoving. Genjutsu. A poorly-disguised glamour.  
The birds are disconcerted, and hop away from their nests in slow, careful movements.   
He feels a bit like those birds. Caught here, there would be no way to hide the evidence of the battle prior, and surely his kind of skills possessed by an orphan child would be raise some questions.   
“Come out.” He calls into the trees.   
The trees give an imperceptible shiver. Nonetheless, the leaves part and a dark shape drops from the branches gracefully.   
It approaches.  
Izuna can make out a shadowed face, a vaguely humanoid silhouette. It is shorter than expected, a child’s stature.   
“Who are you?” It asks.   
As the shadow draws closer, Izuna identifies a high collar, bandaged limbs and, with a start, the signature Uchiha fan emblazoned on his clothes. The Konoha forehead protector glints in the harsh sunlight.   
He is a Shinobi.   
More importantly, he is an Uchiha. Specifically, of this time.   
The voice speaks up again, just as the light filters through the trees and illuminates angular, effortlessly beautiful and unmistakably Uchiha features.   
Izuna feels something inside him strum, a long forgotten melody of comfort and... home.   
“I only saw the end of the battle - and how you finished that Kumo Shinobi off. That was a Sharingan genjustu... the likes of which I have never seen. Your Sharingan’s pattern is strange, but a Sharingan nonetheless. You are an Uchiha Shinobi, are you not? Yet I have never seen you in the clan compound or in the Shinobi ranks. And those clothes...” He pauses, a sudden realisation flashing through his eyes.   
“You are an orphan. With skills like that, you would be considered a prodigy, and you are not even of age to enter the Academy. And with your eyes... no one would dispute that you are part of the Uchiha Clan.”   
He refocuses on Izuna. “What is your name? The Uchiha clan will be interested to know who this child is that possesses that which the Uchiha are known for.”  
Izuna quite nearly cringes, but hastily draws on an impassive mask.   
“My name is Izuna. I have no last name. And I-“ He nearly bites on his own tongue with the foreign words, “I am an orphan, and as far as I know of, I am not an Uchiha. I have never been approached by anyone of that name before.”   
Itachi isn’t discouraged. “But you do not know who your parents are - there is ample evidence that points to at least one being an Uchiha. And to have such a developed chakra network at one so young - you are the child of a distinguished Shinobi, no doubt.”   
“You are a stranger to me.” Izuna says softly, but he can’t prevent the sudden flush of hope and anticipation that threads through his body. “This offer is...” Life as an orphan had been a lonely one, especially compared to his childhood where everyone in the clan lands were considered family, no matter how distant the relation. Somehow, he misses the close-knit blanket of protection and belonging that was their close-knit community.   
An invitation to the Uchiha clan, to an nameless orphan no less - practically unheard of.   
The words seem to bleed from his throat before he can give them form.   
“Come with me.” The Shinobi gives him no chance for argument, and strings him along like a friendship bracelet.   
On the way, words grow heavy in the air, until finally they break the silence.   
“I never told you my name. I am Uchiha Itachi. I graduated the Shinobi academy a year ago, and I am a Genin.”   
Genin, Chuunin, Jonin. There are three classifications; Izuna had been slightly shocked to find that Shinobi are now grouped into classes according to skill, and missions were assigned to the correlating group, maximising completions and minimising failures. It is truly ingenious. Sometimes, he wishes his childhood was more like this one. But he cannot be mad at what shaped him to be the way he is.   
“You… are accomplished for one so young.” Izuna states, from one branch to the next.   
Returning to Konoha, they run through the trees. When it becomes prevalent that Izuna can keep up, the older boy lets go of his hand and they jump in synchronisation.   
Izuna pumps Chakra to his thin, almost malnourished limbs and follows dutifully.   
Itachi flashes him a small, genuine smile, and Izuna can’t help the one that blossoms, tentative, on his lips in response.   
-  
“Izuna, huh?” Uchiha Fugaku is a strict man, a striking figure, the commander of the Uchiha Military Police. Izuna has seen that kind of air, that demands obedience only once before, in his brother, and he respects that greatly.   
“Yes, Fugaku-sama.”   
He now sports a few more bruises and cuts, and he can feel each injury acutely as he inclines delicately at the waist. Fugaku had seemed awfully intrigued when Itachi brought him back to the Clan Compound, and demanded he fight another member of the clan to display the skills Itachi had waxed poetic about. His opponent was about 16, a fresh chunin, he’d wager, with typical Uchiha spiky hair and sharp eyes. After wiping the floor with that guy, who had his Sharingan activated, (with only a few mishaps, most of which stemmed from miscalculation, as well as fighting with the ungainly and injured body of a child; he’s used to fighting much worse enemies than this, dammit! Even the Senju were more than that) the interest had only grew, saturating further into black orbs like fire to dry wood.   
Fugaku gives him one last look. It is one part calculating, one part considering, one part smug and a million others impassive, a stark black veil to the Uchiha warmth that Izuna knows so well.  
“Welcome to the clan. Or more appropriately, welcome home, Uchiha Izuna.”   
Whispers fly across the small Japanese courtyard, like a flock of startled birds taking flight at an unexpected disturbance. The elders take part in this showing. Itachi seems to have more political clout than Izuna had expected.   
Surreptitiously, Izuna channels a thin stream of Chakra to his ears. His childish curiously won’t let this go without a fight - whispers are just one more closed door to him!  
“So much talent in one so young. I can see why Fugaku would want him to join our ranks.”   
“But he’s just a child. And an orphan at that! Nameless. The Uchiha Clan should not associate itself with such filth!”   
“But he is of the Uchiha Clan, even his visage is indistinguishable from the children of our clan. In addition, he possesses the fabled Mangekyou Sharingan! We cannot let this kind of power slip through our fingers.”  
“Nonetheless, he is probably the bastard child of one of our Shinobi.”   
“Bastard! Even worse! We cannot-“   
“Quiet.” A voice cuts through the argument, a hot knife through butter. “It is decided. He will join the ranks of the Uchiha, and lend his skills to the betterment of the clan.”   
The elders quiet down at that. Izuna hides a grin in his high collar.   
“Uchiha Izuna... that’s a name unheard since the time of the Founders. He shows great promise. Perhaps he will even surpass his namesake.”   
Izuna smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, i really wanted to make a multi-chapter fic out of this- like i had an actual plan...   
> Breeze through academy.  
> Find out madara is still alive by snooping through the mission reports.   
> Itachi massacre. Itachi says sorry but Izuna can fight him off.   
> Finds out what happened with Mangekyou abilities or smth and get angry at danzo   
> But still feels protective of the Uchiha Clan and Itachi - tells him to take care of sasuke   
> Takes blame for the massacre by going to hokage tower and announcing   
> Goes missing nin, join akatsuki and finds uchiha Obito acting as madara   
> Almost kills him with rage but then finds out that he is working for madara   
> So waits for impure world resurrection   
> On last battlefield he finds madara finally, calms him down and yayyyy   
> ...and then i lost motivation and decided to post the start as a boring single oneshot.


End file.
